


dead on arrival

by violetmessages



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Dark, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Series 03: Children of Earth (Torchwood), Series 03 Fix-It: Children of Earth (Torchwood)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetmessages/pseuds/violetmessages
Summary: Ianto Jones wakes up. The only problem is, he's certain he was dead.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 19
Kudos: 53





	dead on arrival

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to [ruairidh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/someawkwardprose) for rambling about this idea with me and both [nik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds) and [al](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSandman/pseuds/MrSandman) for being amazing betas (and even better friends). This wouldn't have been possible without you.

Ianto is floating in the darkness. 

It's all around him, like a warm sea that envelops him. It’s not bad, it’s rather comforting if he thinks about it. He doesn’t quite know where he is, or who he is if he’s being honest, but there’s a sort of peace in not knowing. It’s peaceful to be able to just float here, aimlessly in the darkness, and have nothing going on. 

It’s all calm.

It’s all peaceful. 

It’s all-

-Then suddenly something is grabbing at him, tugging him, pulling him away from the comfort of the empty and towards something that feels bad, feels foreign, feels  _ wrong _ . It feels like horror and it feels like fire and ice and burning and freezing and it hurts, it's so painful that Ianto almost can’t bear it. Something is pulling him away from his floating, and that something is deeply dark and unsettling. 

It’s  _ wrong _ . 

Then, as quickly as it begins, the wrongness ends, and he’s somewhere else. Somewhere where there is sensation, his vision a hazy mess. There’s movement and sound and something bright -  _ light, _ his brain supplies for him.  _ That’s a lamp _ .

There are hands stroking his face and there is sound, language perhaps, but it’s far beyond his comprehension. Breath swells in his lungs and he begins to angrily eject it out of his mouth.  _ Coughing _ , he thinks. He’s coughing. 

There are hands that run all over him, something pricks at the inside of his arm, there’s something else that’s inserted into his nose and something almost like a mask placed on top of that and his mouth, something that lets him breathe again. Those soft hands are carding through his hair gently, and he finds a sort of comfort in that. It isn’t like the darkness, with it’s all-encompassing being, but it is the best thing he’s felt since being yanked out of it. 

A few details start to emerge as he steadily breathes in and out. His name is Ianto Jones. He is twenty-six years old. He works for something called Torchwood with his -  _ something _ \- Jack and his sister in everything but name, Gwen. He was last in a place called Thames House. After that- 

-He doesn’t know. He remembers going into Thames House, for some reason - he’s not quite sure - and then nothing. It’s like there was a series of chronological events that he’s simply forgotten. 

He does remember one thing, though. There are two people that he trusts more than anyone else in the world, perhaps even himself. Jack and Gwen. All he has to do is find one of them, and they’ll explain it to him. They’ll keep him safe. 

A short while later, the mask is removed from his nose and mouth and he opens his eyes to see a few people, a man in a lab coat, a woman with braided hair, and Gwen. 

Ianto sighs in relief. Gwen is here, Gwen will take care of him. Gwen will know what to do. Gwen’s hands are stroking his hair and murmuring soft little nothings to him until the spots leave his vision and he can almost see. He opens his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. 

“Easy,” she chides, and presses her lips to his forehead. “Take a few breaths in, sweetheart.”

He coughs once, twice, then takes a few more deep breaths. Then finally, he opens his mouth. 

“What’s going on?” he asks her, in the raspiest voice he’s ever heard himself use. “Gwen, what happened?”

Gwen’s eyes are full of tears as she looks down at him, and he tries to reach up and brush them away, but Gwen quickly pushes his hands down. He stares at her questiongly - why is she crying? 

“Oh Ianto,” she says. “There’s quite a lot you’ve missed.”

Then Gwen explains very quickly, promising to give him more information later. He’d argue, but his brain seems to be in a sort of fugue - he can’t keep things very clear right now. 

But the story, according to Gwen, is as follows. He’d died apparently - how, he doesn’t know and Gwen hasn’t told him. This is the sort of news that he’d expect would make him a little worried and a lot concerned, but he finds that he doesn’t quite care. At least, not yet. 

He’s been brought back somehow, lifted into life, and he doesn’t know how either. When he asks Gwen this question, she just shakes her head. 

“Don’t ask me that,” she says harshly, and her eyes are filled with an emotion that Ianto has never truly seen in her eyes before. It scares him, but it’s gone in an instant.

He’s quiet as she tells him that Jack is here, which sends a pang of something through his heart. He’s not sure what that is either; there’s a lot he doesn’t know, but he’s happy to hear that Jack is here. Then she tells him that he’s a little ill, just like him, and he starts to worry. But Gwen reassures him that Jack is fine. 

Gwen takes him to Jack’s room, holding onto him steadily, pushing his oxygen tank and letting him lean on her. She’s all but holding him up and he’s so grateful to her, grateful that she’s taking such good care of him, that she’s helping him, when he remembers that she’s pregnant. Or maybe she’s given birth already, he doesn’t know. 

And then he gets to see Jack again. 

Their reunion is nothing like Ianto would expect of Jack, of the limited memory he has left. After giving him the gentlest kiss he thinks they’ve ever had, Jack and Gwen bring him to a small bedroom, wherever they are. There, Gwen arranges his IV so it doesn’t tug, Jack helps Ianto lie down comfortably, and then Jack attaches himself to Ianto. He holds onto Ianto like a dying man clutching onto a life raft, clinging like he’ll never see him again. 

“I lost you,” Jack explains after Ianto asks why he’s being so clingy. “I lost you and you were gone, and I didn’t have you.”

“How did I die?” Ianto tries to ask. “Gwen didn’t tell me.”

Jack inhales sharply and buries his face in the crook of Ianto’s shoulder. Something wet drips onto it, and it takes Ianto a minute to realize that those are tears. He raises a hand to rub Jack’s back, and Jack shudders. 

“Please don’t ask me that,” says Jack, his voice thick and gravely. “Please don’t.”

Ianto presses a kiss to the bit of Jack that’s nearest, his temple, and Jack shakes and sobs and grieves, doing all the grieving that he must not have done while Ianto was still dead. Ianto holds him, holds Jack steady, and whispers that he’s still here. 

Ianto reaches to hold Jack’s hand, grasping his wrist and moving his way up, but is confused. 

“Jack?” he asks. “Where’s your wriststrap?”

“I lost it,” Jack says after a while. “Remember when the Hub got blown up? I couldn’t find it afterwards.”

“I’m sorry,” Ianto whispers. 

“It’s alright.”

There’s nothing but silence after that, just Jack pressing little kisses, kisses of joy and disbelief, to the side of Ianto’s neck, their bodies intertwined, and the silvery light shining on them, peeking through the slatted window. 

Coaxed into sleep by the dreamlike state of the room, Ianto’s dreams that night are murky and disturbing. Instead of being in that peaceful darkness, it’s different now. It’s still the same but he’s getting this sort of feeling, goosebumps on his skin, a prickling on the back of his neck. 

The feeling of not being alone. 

He waits with bated breath as the hours tick by in the darkness. It’s not the same now, it’s not even close to being the same. He knows he’s Ianto Jones now, he knows that he doesn’t quite belong here. He’s Ianto Jones and he’d like to go back to holding his - Jack, even if he doesn’t know all the details quite yet. 

The sensation of being watched gets worse and he panics, heart rate going up, which is a new experience - he didn’t think he had a heart in the darkness before - and finally he gasps awake in a cold sweat. 

Immediately Jack is there, Jack is holding him, Jack is whispering reassurances into his ear as he tries to calm down. It’s getting harder to breathe and he thinks that Jack realizes that, because very soon some people come in and reattach a mask over his nose and mouth. It makes him a little scared, but Jack is there, Jack is whispering that he’ll always be there, and Gwen is there too, her hands entwined with Jack’s over his heart. 

Ianto rests. 

The resting must be terribly impatient for Jack - he has a rush of fond memories of watching Jack stride across the Hub, tetchy that things were not happening just this second. Ianto has always been able to control himself, wait, but that is a skill that Jack hasn’t seemed to possess. But even though he expects Jack to get up, walk around, stretch his legs and talk anxiously, Jack stays the entire time as Ianto drifts in and out of sleep, seemingly not even moving. Gwen comes in and out, she must be busy. After all, her baby must have been born by now. But Jack is here, Jack is always here, and it’s the only comfort Ianto has at the moment. 

Gwen comes back when Ianto wakes up again - he’s lost count of how many times so far - and she gives him a kiss on the forehead then takes off the mask that’s on his nose and mouth. 

“Hello,” she whispers. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he rasps. 

“What did the doctor say?” asks Jack impatiently. “I thought he was better now. You  _ said  _ he would be.”

Jack and Gwen glare at each other for a moment. There is a tension there, a tension that Ianto does not understand. It’s a tension that’s new, a tension that feels foreign. 

A tension that feels dark. 

“The doctor says his heart rate spiked in the night,” Gwen says finally. “His lungs are still healing, so it couldn’t handle that. They shut down. So from now on, just to be safe, he’s going to wear the cannula during the day and the non-rebreather mask during the night.”

“The what?” asks Ianto. 

“The mask you were just wearing,” explains Gwen with a smile. “You’re going to wear that during the night so you’ll have a higher concentration of oxygen. So just in case we have another scare like this, you’ll have more of a supply of oxygen.”

Jack still looks worried so Ianto reaches out for Jack’s hand, trying to comfort him. 

“It’s okay,” says Ianto. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

Jack still looks worried and is about to respond when Gwen interrupts, giving him a look that Ianto can’t exactly decipher. 

“Jack I need you to come with me,” she says. “I need your help with something.”

“I need to be here for Ianto,” responds Jack angrily. “I’m not leaving.”

“You’re the only one that can help,” states Gwen flatly. “I’ll ask some other people to be with Ianto right now.”

“I’m not going-”

“ _ -Don’t _ make me ask again,” says Gwen, her tone on the verge of shouting. Ianto’s never seen her like this and he’s a little worried. 

“Jack,” he says. “Go help Gwen. I’m fine.”

Jack looks conflicted, maybe even a little scared, but finally concedes, giving Ianto a gentle kiss and walking out the door with Gwen. Ianto watches him leave, then settles back, feeling a little bored.

He would have preferred that Jack stay with him, but Gwen - she looked ready to shoot Jack and bring him with her. Gwen is probably under a lot of stress, he thinks. She’d probably had to deal with a lot when he was dead, even if no one is telling him anything. And it makes sense that she would need all the help she could get. 

His heart goes out to Gwen for being able to handle the last - however long it has been since he died. He doesn’t know if he could cope as well as her, had their roles been reversed. 

A while later, the door opens and Ianto tries to sit up to see who it is. 

“Oh, no, don’t get up,” Rhys’ voice comes from the door. “Don’t overexert yourself, it’s only me.”

Ianto does not listen to him, pulling himself upright so he can talk better. Rhys looks tired and slightly older, but when Ianto smiles at him, he notices then that there is a baby sleeping in his arms. 

“Is that her?” he asks, grinning broadly at the baby. She looks a little bigger than he expects. “How old is she?”

“That’s our Anwen,” says Rhys, a paternal glow about him. “She’s almost two years old.”

So not a baby then. A toddler. 

“A good Welsh name,” Ianto says approvingly, and Rhys laughs. 

“That’s what Gwen said you’d say!” he smiles. Ianto chuckles with him, but decides that he’d rather not waste any more time. 

“Rhys, what happened?” he asks directly. “I mean, the last time I saw you, Gwen had just found out that she was pregnant and now you have a two year old?”

“I-”

“Please,” he begs. “No one will tell me anything. What the hell is going on.”

“I, erm,” Rhys fumbles for a bit. “Look, it’s a long story. You died, and Jack left, and Gwen - she wasn’t taking it very well.”

“Jack left?”

“Yeah,” says Rhys, and at this, a flash of anger crosses over his face. “He - after everything, he just took off.”

“No, he wouldn’t do that,” says Ianto disbelievingly. “He wouldn’t just leave. What about Gwen? And how did I die? What about -”

A memory comes back to him, a blue tank, the children talking in unison. A signal, them on the run. 

“What about the 456?” Ianto asks insistently. “Jack and Gwen, they fixed it, didn’t they? How did they do it?”

“Jack did,” explains Rhys, looking uncomfortable. “And I think you’re better off asking him that question.”

“He won’t tell me,” says Ianto, annoyed. “Why will no one tell me what’s going on?”

The machine he’s connected to starts beeping and Rhys’s eyes widen. He carefully arranges Anwen on his shoulder, and pats Ianto’s hand.

“Calm down, mate,” he says quickly. “I don’t want to make you collapse again!”

Ianto breathes in deeply, air flowing from the cannula that he’s wearing. He tries to slow down his heartbeat, but he’s still so confused about everything. It’s only made worse by the fact that everyone he knows, everyone he trusts is treating him like he’s made of glass, like he can’t handle anything. He worked for Torchwood, he was there during Canary Wharf. 

He can handle himself. 

That’s when Gwen and Jack walk in, Jack looking extremely tired, even more so than before. There are bags under his eyes and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Ianto offers him a smile, which he returns quickly, but returns to focus on Anwen. Rhys protectively covers her for some reason, angling her away from Gwen and Jack, and gets to his feet. 

“So that’s her,” whispers Jack, so softly that Ianto has to strain his ears to hear it. 

“Rhys,” Gwen says sharply, and Rhys responds, moving to the edge of the door, angling Anwen, covering her little head with his hand. He eyes Jack suspiciously, then gives Ianto a friendly smile before leaving. Jack views the event with a sort of casual air, only looking a little wounded when he sees that Rhys hasn’t responded to him. 

“She’s adorable,” says Ianto, pushing past the hostile air of the room. “Why didn’t you tell me that it’s almost been three years?”

“I didn’t want to worry you yet,” Gwen says. 

“She looks like you,” says Jack, staring in the direction that Rhys left. 

“Yes,” says Gwen breathily. “That’s my girl. I’ll never let anything happen to her.”

“I would expect that you wouldn’t,” replies Jack casually, but his eyes have hardened. 

“I’ll never let anyone touch her either. Not even for the sake of the world,” Gwen counters, and Jack’s face goes blank. Ianto looks between the both of them, confused. 

“Can someone tell me what is going on?” he demands. “I wake up, it’s been three years, and no one will tell me anything. I’m not  _ fragile,  _ you know.”

The machine starts beeping again, and both Gwen and Jack spring into action, pushing Ianto down and telling him to stay calm. 

“No, I don’t want to be calm,” he shouts at them. “Tell me what’s going on?”

“Ianto, please,” Jack pleads, and the expression on his face shocks him enough to stop moving, stop fighting back. “I-”

“-I’ll explain everything once Tosh and Owen come in,” Gwen says quickly. “It’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Tosh and Owen?” Ianto asks. “But they’re-”

“-I brought them back,” said Gwen. “They still need to be patched up, but they’re back, Ianto!” 

He’s overjoyed. If Gwen’s brought them back, brought him back, that must mean it was safe, and he can’t wait to see them again. Her eyes are gleaming brightly, and Ianto doesn’t know why Jack isn’t as happy as him and Gwen. Jack is standing there, looking exhausted, but he’s not even smiling. 

“Jack?” he says tentatively, and the man shoots up, frown replaced with a wide beam that looks genuine enough. “They’re alive again, right? And you didn’t use the glove?”

“I didn’t,” says Jack. He looks tired. 

“It’s safe,” Gwen reassures him. “Look, I brought you all back, and properly this time. You’re properly alive now, I promise. Just wait here. I’ll bring them in.”

She runs out the door and Ianto watches her, a little worried. Gwen had been running Torchwood, he had always thought she’d be able to go on, but by herself? Without Jack?

“Rhys says you left,” says Ianto, raising an eyebrow at Jack. “You left Gwen? All alone?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” replies Jack. 

“So tell me then,” Ianto prods. “What happened that made you leave? You always knew I was going to die someday, right?”

Jack doesn’t respond. He sinks down onto the chair opposite Ianto’s bed and stares at the opposite white wall blankly. He makes no motion to even acknowledge Ianto’s question. 

A few moments of silence later, Gwen and another woman wheel in Tosh and Owen, who look just as confused as he is. Owen is skulking, probably angry that he needs a wheelchair in the first place. Tosh just looks dazed. 

“Jack,” says Tosh. “Jack, you-”

“-I’m here,” says Jack shakily, a tear dripping from his eye. “You’re here.”

* * *

Ianto’s learned many things in the last few weeks. Quite a few things have changed, more things than he would have expected. 

Firstly, Gwen seems to be in charge of this  _ new  _ Torchwood that they’re running, which makes sense - Jack left. He says new, since he doesn’t actually know what they do - Gwen doesn't let him, Tosh, or Owen know anything about their actual work - but he assumes it's similar enough to the old Torchwood. 

Or at least, he thinks. 

There are weird things about this new Torchwood. It’s no longer underground, nothing like the old Hub. This Torchwood is in an office building, a highrise on the other side of the city. It’s white, and corporate, and it houses many, many, many more employees than the old one. It reminds him, unfortunately, of Torchwood One. 

What these employees do is also a mystery. Cardiff doesn’t actually need three hundred or so people manning the Rift, and there aren’t enough weevils in the city to warrant those numbers. So why they work at Torchwood doesn’t make sense to him. There are security guards everywhere, which also confuses Ianto - that’s more UNIT than Torchwood. But Gwen never explains, no matter how many times he asks.

His days are boring now, nothing like the action of his previous life. He can tell that Owen and Tosh are similarly chafing, but Gwen refuses to let them be a part of her Torchwood. She reminds them that they’re still “healing”, whatever that means. She’s right that he still has to wear a cannula and needs to cart around the stupid oxygen tank wherever he goes - his lungs may never work at full capacity again. But Owen and Tosh are mostly fine, and even then, they don’t have to do anything physically strenuous; they can do other things. They’re all going mad with boredom. 

He wakes up in the mornings, Jack lying next to him, and it’s almost like he never died. Then he sees the blank white walls of the office building that Torchwood is in now. They aren’t even allowed to go outside - not yet, Gwen says. “It’s not safe”, apparently, so they live here, in Torchwood. It’s a little nicer than the Hub and a lot warmer, but it isn’t home. Not really. Probably not ever. 

After he gets up, Jack is quick to follow, kissing him, but never enough. It’s another thing that’s infuriating - Jack treats him like made of glass. They haven’t had sex yet, not since he’s been resurrected, and at this rate he wonders if they’ll ever have it again. It’s not for lack of trying either, but every time Ianto attempts anything, Jack just reminds him that he’s not supposed to bring his heart rate up too much. 

Bollocks. 

They walk to the big room at the end of the hallway together - Jack still rolling his oxygen tank for him regardless of how many times Ianto insists that he has enough energy to roll a bloody tank, goddamn it. The big room is where they spend almost all their time - it’s like a little flat within the building. The walls are painted a light blue, huge floor to ceiling windows stream in bright light, and it’s got a kitchen, dining room, and living room that are each the size of Ianto’s old flat. 

Ianto would love it, if not for the fact that it’s a gilded cage. 

They eat breakfast together, all five of them. Gwen is bubbly and smiley and as an apology for making them stay inside all the time, agrees to get them whatever they want. 

She’s even bought him a coffee machine, so he plays around with that every morning, and serves them fresh hot coffee for breakfast. Whenever Jack sees him doing that, he stares at Ianto, like it might be the final time he’ll ever do it, and if he doesn’t, he’ll never be able to experience it again. Every coffee that Ianto gives Jack is treated like gold, every action that Ianto makes is not complete without Jack staring in complete disbelief. 

This morning, Gwen and Tosh are already sitting at the table, and Gwen’s holding out her PDA, and typing something rapidly into it while frowning. Owen is making something at the kitchen next to it - he’s gotten better at cooking now that it’s one of the only things he can do anymore. 

“Busy with work?” he remarks. Gwen looks up and gives him a smile. 

“When’s it not busy?” She winks. 

“Maybe I could help with something?” Tosh asks eagerly. “You know how good I am.”

“Oh of course I do,” Gwen says smiling, and places a hand on Tosh’s. “You’re the best. But I want you to be healthy and safe.”

“I can actually do more than just chasing Weevils, you know,” Owen calls out. “We’re going  _ mad,  _ sitting here doing nothing. We’re Torchwood too.”

“Look, I promise, the minute you’re all healed, I’ll let you come back in to work,” Gwen says. “But for now, can you trust that I’m making the right decision?”

“Oh come on, Jack, you’re here all the time. Tell her how fine we are,” Owen grumbles. Jack takes a seat and looks at Gwen, eyebrows raised. 

“Sorry Owen. Gwen’s the boss,” says Jack, flatly. “She makes the decisions.”

“That’s right, I do,” Gwen responds, her voice sharp. Both of them stare at each other for a few moments, but it’s not like before, when they would be angry with each other but the anger would quickly dissipate. They stare at each other with something akin to... malice?

“Breakfast?” asks Owen, breaking the hostile energy. He sets a plate of eggs and toast down, and both Gwen and Jack break away from their intense glaring to thank Owen. 

After breakfast, Gwen leaves to do something, and the four of them are left in that room to amuse themselves.

There’s nothing to do but walk around the dull white corridors of the building and watch as the other Torchwood employees stop talking as they approach, take up a hobby - Tosh is trying painting - play video games like Owen, go mad watching EastEnders and any other inane show that’s on the television, pick up a book from the stocked library Gwen’s set up, or sit, blankly. And wherever he goes, Jack follows him. 

It’s enough to make him go mad. 

There isn’t a place Ianto can go without Jack following like a little lost lamb. The only time away from Jack that Ianto gets is, oddly, at dinner. 

Because at around seven, Jack will give him a quick kiss and walk out, saying he’ll be right back. Then Gwen, Rhys, and Anwen will come in and have dinner with them. Sometimes they’ll stay for longer, and Ianto and Owen and Tosh will amuse themselves by playing with Anwen. She loves running around and chasing after balls. Sometimes she’ll fall asleep in one of their arms after they read a story to her. 

Gwen always leaves a little before Rhys and Anwen, and Jack only comes back when all three of them are gone. When asked why, Jack pivots and never answers the question, so after a while Ianto stops asking. 

He’s not complaining about eating with his family or even living with them; he loves them and is grateful for their second chance. But his life at the moment is maddening. It’s tiresome, the same thing day in and day out, with nothing to engage his mind. 

He’d talk to Jack about it, but Jack looks worse for wear every day. He looks exhausted every time Ianto sees him, the bags under his eyes getting more and more pronounced. He’s not sure why - he can feel Jack clinging to him during the night, and he definitely isn’t going anywhere. 

The more Ianto stays in this building, the more suspicious he gets. Something doesn’t make sense, something doesn’t add up, and maybe it’s his under-stimulated brain, but he’s got nothing else to do. Why do they have so many employees? Why don’t they let Ianto or Tosh or Owen see anything that they do? Why do they have security when they’re Torchwood, when they’re supposed to be a secret?

And what the hell happened in those three years that Ianto was gone?

There’s not really a time that he gets to talk to Owen and Tosh alone. Sometimes there are a few minutes from when Rhys and Anwen leave to when Jack comes back. Those are the only times they get to talk freely. So today, when Ianto has finally had enough and they have a few minutes to themselves, Ianto broaches the subject. 

“There has to be something going on that Gwen and Jack aren’t telling us,” he says. Tosh and Owen nod. 

“I’m going bloody mad in this room,” Owen complains. “There’s got to be a reason why Gwen won’t let us go back to work.”

“Why are there so many people working here?” Tosh asks. “We managed fine with five.”

“I wouldn’t say we  _ managed -  _ we were overworked,” Ianto grumbles. “But you don’t need this many people to man the Rift. There’s got to be at least a hundred of them here.”

“They always stop talking when we show up,” Tosh says sadly. “It’s like they’re under obligation to not let us know what they’re doing.”

“They probably are,” Owen says. “And I’m not buying that it’s for our health.”

“Do you think Jack’s part of it?” Tosh asks. “I mean, he won’t tell us anything either. I asked him a hundred times how he brought us back to life, and he wouldn’t tell me.”

“He-” Ianto starts to say. “I don’t know. He’s definitely involved somehow, I just don’t know how involved. He doesn’t really seem to  _ do  _ anything for Torchwood anymore.”

“Look, all I know is that we have to figure out what’s going on,” Owen says. “How do we do that?”

“Well, if we had internet access, I could hack into their servers. But we don’t,” Tosh says, looking annoyed. “If we could get access to their servers-”

“-What if we downloaded it?” Owen asks. “We can sneak down to their server rooms and then find an excuse to get Jack out of the way so Tosh can go through them.”

“I might be able to get him out,” Ianto says, and they quickly plan out what they’re going to do.

That next afternoon, Tosh asks Jack to be the subject in her next painting, and he happily agrees. Once they’re all set up, however, Ianto excuses himself, pretending he’s going to the bathroom. 

Jack jumps up instantly and Tosh makes a displeased noise. “I’ll help,” says Jack, ignoring her.

“I don’t need your help to go to the bathroom, Jack,” Ianto says annoyed. “Sit down or you’ll ruin Tosh’s painting.”

“I need you to sit still, Jack,” chides Tosh. “Otherwise it won’t come out right.”

“What if you slip?” asks Jack. “And you fall, and you lose your breath? What happens then?”

“I’ll take him,” Owen says sarcastically. “I’ll stand guard in case he cracks his head against the toilet. Jesus, Jack, he’s not an infant!”

“He needs someone to be with him,” argues Jack. “There’s a real possibility that he could stop breathing again.”

“ _ He _ can speak for himself,” says Ianto, rolling his eyes. “And if you think I need a bloody chaperone to the bathroom, then I choose Owen. Now sit down and let Tosh paint.”

Saying this, he and Owen quickly walk out the door. They rush downstairs to the main server room and take out Owen’s game flash drive, the only thing that they have to record data on. Surprisingly, it’s easier than it seems.

“Do you remember how Tosh explained it?” Ianto asks. 

“Of course I do,” Owen snarks. “I know how to download files - I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m just checking.”

“I’m deleting all my bloody games for you, you know,” Owen says sarcastically, but sticks it into a port anyway. Ianto stands guard while the flash drive downloads all the data, and then they quickly leave, shocked at how poorly guarded it is. There are no guards, no security cameras, and the door isn’t even locked.

When they return, they set the next step of their plan into action. 

“I wish,” Ianto starts to say, then stops on purpose, looking back down to his book as if he’s embarrassed to say. “I - never mind.”

“What is it?” asks Jack. “What’s wrong?”

“I - you’re going to think it’s stupid,” Ianto says, faking bashfulness, and looks away. 

“Tell me, please,” says Jack, looking so earnest that Ianto feels almost guilty for lying to him and wonders if he should just ask him outright. But then he remembers, Jack is implicated in this as well. Jack is involved and he is never going to give them a straight answer.

“I miss those pastries we used to get on Wednesdays. I have the worst craving for them - the raspberry crowns. I really want one now,” says Ianto, trying to sound almost pitiful. 

“If you ask Gwen, she’ll get them for you tomorrow,” Jack says. “She’s the only one that leaves.”

He sounds a little bitter, but Ianto ignores it. That’s a problem for later. 

“I won’t want them later,” he explains. “I’d like to have one now. Oh well, I told you it was stupid. I was just thinking about how nice it might be to have one - we used to get them all the time. Actually, no, I’d get them and you’d steal them.”

Jack looks a little abashed, and doesn’t say anything for a moment. “You used to get them from that shop on the corner of the Plass, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Jack hesitates then smiles. “I’ll get some right now. Anyone else want anything?”

“Chocolate croissant,” yells Owen from the other side of the room. 

“Oh I’d love a lemon bar,” Tosh smiles at him. “Thanks Jack!”

Jack strides forwards and gives Tosh a quick kiss on the forehead. He walks to Ianto and kisses him slow and gentle and for a long time until Owen makes gagging noises. 

“I’ll be right back.” Jack smiles. Then he pecks Ianto on the lips and jogs out. Ianto sits there, almost dazed, until Tosh coughs and Owen groans. 

“Come on then, we only have so long,” Owen grumbles. He takes out the flash drive and sticks it into the computer, then turns it over to Tosh. “Your turn.”

“Thanks,” she smiles, and plops herself onto his chair, typing away. “Let’s see, we should always start with the finances. There seems to be - a lot of funding. Hey, it looks like Gwen pays everyone a fair wage.”

“It’s Gwen, of course she would,” Owen says. “She’s one of those  _ good  _ people, isn’t she. Anyway, I don’t care about the quality of life of these people. What are they working on? Why are there so many of them?”

“Hold on,” Tosh retorts, rolling her eyes. “Let me see. Huh, that’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Most of these people used to work for UNIT. Actually, all of the security used to work for UNIT. And, it looks like they're working  _ with  _ UNIT?” Tosh says, surprised. “Wait, no, UNIT is working for Torchwood. Gwen’s in constant communication with the directors and she’s - she has weekly meetings with them to discuss their reports. It’s almost like Torchwood has directly taken over UNIT.”

“Why is Gwen working with UNIT?” asks Ianto. “We never did, before. We used to make fun of them.”

“Other than security, most of these people are scientists. They’re studying whatever the Rift brings, I suppose. Most of them are working on something called Sigma Epsilon,” says Tosh.

“What the fuck is Sigma Epsilon?” asks Owen. “What the bloody hell is Gwen doing?”

“It doesn’t say,” Tosh says. “Let me see if some of these files are encrypted.”

Tosh clanks on the keyboard, typing rapidly, and a smile grows on her face as she does it. Ianto reasons that this is probably the first time in a while that Tosh has had a challenge. She too, like the rest of them, is bored out of her mind. 

“Oh my god,” says Tosh slowly. “I-”

“-What is it?” asks Ianto.

“Sigma Epsilon is a project about biological weaponry,” says Tosh slowly. “Gwen’s employees aren’t just studying the Rift remains. They’re using them to create weapons, powerful ones.”

“Gwen wouldn’t do that,” says Ianto in shock. “That’s not like her.”

“Look, this one right here, if utilized, it can wipe out all of Wales in an instant,” Tosh says. “This other one - it’s like a coercer. If you spray that on someone - they’ll do whatever you want. There’s more-”

“-What the hell is she playing at,” Owen whispers, baffled. “Gwen doesn’t even - she  _ wouldn’t. _ ”

“They’re with UNIT, I bet they’re stringing her along,” Ianto decides. “We’ve got to talk to her.”

“What about Jack?”

“We can’t ask him,” Ianto decides. “He already looks like a wreck - I don’t even know if he knows what Torchwood is up to. I’m just going to follow Gwen after dinner and ask her what’s going on.”

* * *

Dinner is silent. 

Owen and Tosh look down into their meals the entire time, Ianto is far too stressed and confused to talk about anything, and Gwen seems to follow suit, her face set in a stony glare as she feeds her daughter. Rhys is the only one that tries to make any kind of conversation but, after getting no response, he shuts up as well. The only sounds are their eating and Anwen, who babbles to herself. 

When Rhys is done eating, he takes Anwen from Gwen and she begins to eat rapidly. Ianto watches as she shovels food into her mouth as quickly as she can. 

“Careful,” he jokes, eyebrows furrowed. “You’ll choke if you eat that fast.”

“No need to worry,” says Gwen, smiling briefly, then going back to eating rapidly. A few moments later, she wipes her mouth and stands up. 

“I’ll be right back,” she says, and strides off. Ianto waits for just a moment, then stands up himself, clutching his oxygen tank.

“Excuse me,” he says, and walks out, following the flash of dark hair at the end of the corridor. He tries his best to keep up with her, annoyed that he can’t go as fast as he used to be able to. 

She walks along several corridors and down a couple flights of stairs, ones that are mercifully filled with people so she doesn’t notice him. Finally, on the fifth floor, Gwen strides through an empty hallway and enters a room, which Ianto notices is locked and clearly marked with Do Not Enter signs. 

He waits for a moment before making up his mind and following Gwen into the room, and it takes him a few seconds to fully understand what is happening. 

"What have you done to him?" Ianto rasps, horrified at what he's seeing. Jack is unconscious and strapped to a table, something clamped to his wrist, shooting off sparks, glowing bright gold. Gwen smiles at him, a smile that makes his blood run cold, a smile that he's never seen on her kind, caring face. 

"I did what had to be done," she says, staring at him with her cold,  _ dead  _ eyes. "I fixed our family." 

"This isn't right, this isn't you," says Ianto, unable to believe that Gwen, their Gwen, who argued with Jack constantly about doing the right thing, who loved more than anyone he knew, could do such a thing. 

“I’m doing what’s best for our family,” Gwen says, a hollow smile on her face. “You see, Jack has so much life to give and, well, you didn’t have any.”

“That’s how you brought us back.”

“Yeah,” she says, and her face has a look that Ianto hates, that he despises, that looks nothing like her. “You three, it takes a lot to keep you functioning at full capacity. You constantly need more energy. And that’s where Jack comes in.”

“He agreed?” Ianto asks, shocked.

“Not at first,” Gwen says casually. “But there always have to be a few losses for a gain. He’s paying it forward.”

“Gwen, how could you do this?” he asks, his voice cracking. “Jack loves you, how could you-”

“Do you really want to know how Jack stopped the 456?” Gwen asks, cutting him off. “Do you know why Jack isn’t allowed near Anwen?”

“He’s not allowed near Anwen?”

“No. It’s because he killed his grandson to stop the 456,” states Gwen. “And if he can do that to his grandson, then why would he have any qualms about doing that to my daughter?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He would. And he did.”

But Ianto knew that Jack would. If given no other option, Jack could be that ruthless. Jack was capable of things that he would never do. 

“How can you do that to him?” Ianto whispered brokenly. “I know you’re making weapons too. Why are you doing this?”

“Ah yes, the files you copied. Did you think I wouldn’t guard my servers?” Gwen mocked. “I’m doing this to keep us safe, Ianto. If anything like the 456 ever happens again, this time we’ll be prepared. I’ve got my fingers in UNIT and the government, and they’ll never be able to hurt us again.”

“This isn’t the way to do it,” Ianto says, pleading with her. “You’re hurting people, you’re hurting Jack. Gwen, what happened to you?

This isn’t her, he realizes. His strong kind sister died when he had, and in her place emerged a mere shadow, an imposter that wore her name but not her heart. She had been shattered and put back together improperly, broken and hollow and  _ cruel _ .

“I grew up,” Gwen says flatly. “I grew out of the naivety. This is the only way I can keep you all safe.”

“I’m not going to let you do this,” Ianto declares. “I won’t let you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” says Gwen, smiling sadly. “That’s why I have to do this.”

And she pulls out a gun and raises it to Ianto. He gasps and holds out his hands in front of him, eyes widened in shock. 

“What are you doing?” he demands. “Gwen,  _ please. _ ”

“I’m doing what has to be done,” she says. “It won’t hurt you, I promise. I’ll be better next time - I’ll give you all things to do so you don’t get curious.”

“ _ Gwen- _ ” 

“-I’m doing this because I love you,” she says, tears in her eyes. “I promise, this will hurt me far more than it hurts you.”

Then Gwen pulls the trigger, a shooting pain emerges in his abdomen, and everything goes black. 

* * *

**THREE YEARS PRIOR**

Rule number one: life isn’t fair. And it’s up to you to make the world right again. 

Gwen’s not an idiot. She  _ was  _ naive, she’ll give you that, but she’s not an idiot. She is capable of using her head. She used to use her head to help people. That was until she realized that sometimes, people don’t deserve to be helped. This is the whole problem - it’s her trying to help everyone that got the people she loved killed. 

_ Ianto, Tosh, Owen _ . 

But regardless, she knows. Life isn’t fair, life is never fair. The world operates on the roll of a die, and if you aren’t quick, if you don’t grab the dice before they roll you and your friends their untimely deaths, you lose. If you don’t pull yourself together and  _ take  _ the things you are  _ owed _ , you will never get them again. 

It’s why Gwen gave birth alone, in a cottage by the sea, with no one but her husband and a midwife that she promptly retconned afterwards - the more people that knew about her daughter, the more likely it was that they could take her. Instead of having her family waiting outside her hospital room, being the first to see her new baby girl, cooing and holding her and excitedly chatting with them - Owen being snarky but enamored instantly, Tosh being lovely as usual, Ianto being awkward but trying his absolute best - Anwen has no visitors, no one that Gwen trusts enough to hide the fact that she exists. 

A baby registered to the state is a baby that the state can take away. 

So Anwen has no visitors, not even her grandparents. Her father dies in her second trimester, her mother has decided to leave the country in search of something else, something new - and something that doesn’t remind her of her dead husband and “deadbeat” daughter - and Gwen doesn’t trust Rhys’ parents to keep Anwen a secret. 

Rhys complains about this but she reminds him to keep quiet. Reminds him that she knows better. She is Torchwood after all, and Torchwood may have ruined her, hardened her, sunk down into her bones and twisted and snapped until she was left mangled and raw, healing in such a way that she would never be the same. But she still is Torchwood. And Torchwood corrupts.

When Gwen holds her daughter to her breast, she wonders if she is nourishing Anwen or poisoning her, whether she’s feeding her milk or gall - she’s not sure if there’s any part of her that isn’t corrupted.

And she’s the only one left. 

Officially Jack still exists. Jack’s still alive, and that brings a bitter taste to her mouth. Her purported confidant, her best friend, the one she thought would be there as long as she lived and then some, had fucked off the minute he could. He left her, told her she wasn’t enough for him to stay, and she hates him, hates him for dragging her in this mess and abandoning her the minute he couldn’t handle it. Her brother in everything but name had _ died, _ Ianto had been _ killed,  _ and Jack just left - leaving nothing but a mess behind.

It’s alright, though. Jack leaving has hardened her, and it’s made her cognizant of the fact that Life Is Not Fair. Jack leaving has changed her, and with nothing but time, she starts to plan.

See, Gwen is smart, and she’s smart enough to know that staying in this secluded village by the sea is good for Anwen and it's good for Rhys - it’ll keep them both safe. But staying here is not right for her, not when she has so many things left to do. Not when she has so many plans. Rhys can stay with Anwen, there is no one she trusts or loves more than her husband. 

Rhys is… not a fan of this idea. 

“But why do you have to go?” he asks, looking at her with concern. “We’ve left all this behind, Gwen - what if it’s not safe?”

“I have to,” Gwen responds, and cups his face. “I have to bring the rest of our family back. You take good care of Anwen, alright? And keep yourself out of trouble.”

“But,” he starts to protest, and Gwen cuts him off. 

“I have to do this,” she says. “This will make us even more safe. When I come back, nothing will ever happen to us. Not ever.”

He sighs, giving her a conflicted look, but he knows that deep down, nothing is going to stop her. She kisses him, hot and heavy, kisses that gorgeous man she loves so very much, and then steps away. 

“I love you,” she says. “I’ll be back, it won’t take too long.”

“I love you too,” says Rhys. “Come home soon.”

“I promise.”

And with a final glance back at her fragmented family, she heads back to London, the epicenter of all this nonsense. The Hub’s blown up - it was blown up ages ago, and UNIT has dug up everything that remained, which was not much. There are no alien artifacts that she needs - save one. UNIT still has the shattered remains of their Rift manipulator, and Gwen already has Tosh’s old notes. It’s just a matter of getting it. 

Unfortunately for her, Martha, her only contact that she can stand in UNIT, has gone freelance, so she doesn’t exactly have an in. And no UNIT employee worth their salt would give any kind of clearance to her, an angry, vengeful Torchwood ex-employee with a vendetta and an ax to grind. 

Lucky for her, she has a considerable amount of blackmail material on the archive director thanks to Ianto, who had once overheard some very helpful information while at a UNIT conference. Jack had said that it might come in handy some time. He was right. And that time is now. 

She checks into a shitty old hotel near the edge of the city and gets to work. She needs to get into UNIT headquarters, which means she needs an appropriate ID card. This is the only part that will take some time. Gwen stakes out the UNIT headquarters for a while, disguised obviously, and decides on her target. One Sarah Beverly, aged thirty three, works in security, and goes to a pub nearby every Saturday with some mates. To Gwen’s knowledge Sarah is single - she lives alone, and her flat gives no indication that she has a partner. 

That Saturday, Gwen puts on her old pulling dress, the one from Uni that used to get her all the men and women she liked, shows off her rack, and surprisingly still fits. Then she paints her face pretty, and sticks her gun and some retcon in her purse, heading to Sarah’s local. It’s not exactly hard to catch Sarah’s interest - all she has to do is look pretty and offer to buy her a drink. 

“I’m Yvonne,” she says, smiling at Sarah. “I don’t mean to be too forward, but can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure,” says Sarah, and inches closer to Gwen, placing a hand next to her own. “I’m Sarah.”

Throughout the course of the conversation, Gwen learns that Sarah is single, works security at a place called Redwin - UNIT’s codename apparently - and is into pottery. She’s not had a significant relationship in a year - score - and judging by her expression, she thinks Gwen is attractive. At around twelve, Gwen leans close to Sarah and whispers in her ear.

“Would you like to continue this somewhere more private?”

Sarah nods and they stumble out of the bar, clutching hands, and walk to the back of the pub. She presses Gwen against the brick wall, holding Gwen there by the waist. 

“May I,” she asks, and Gwen nods, trying not to look too eager. Sarah leans forwards and kisses her, pressing close to her. They snog furiously for a little bit and Gwen tries not to feel too guilty about Rhys - after all, she doesn’t actually have any emotional attachment to Sarah, other than her working for UNIT. After a few minutes, Sarah pulls away, gasping slightly, and Gwen attaches herself to Sarah’s neck. 

“Your place or mine,” Sarah whispers hoarsely. 

“Yours,” responds Gwen, and returns to Sarah’s neck. 

At some point in the night they manage to get to Sarah’s flat, and into her bed. Gwen hasn’t had sex with a woman since university, so she lets Sarah take the lead, and isn’t disappointed. Afterwards, when they lay on her bed, fucked out, Sarah turns to Gwen with a curious look. 

“What?” Gwen asks, giving her a lascivious look. “Ready for the next round?”

“No, no,” Sarah whispers. “I didn’t want to say anything, but, you’ve suffered a loss recently, haven’t you.”

Gwen bristles and Sarah shakes her head. “I don’t mean to cause any offense,” she clarifies. “It’s just, when I see you, it’s like you’re missing someone.”

“I-” Gwen starts to say, shocked at how Sarah could tell. “Yeah, uh, I lost my brother a little while ago. I guess it shows.”

“I’m sorry,” says Sarah, and moves to embrace her. “What was his name?”

“Ianto,” whispers Gwen, and blinks away her tears. She hasn’t cried in so long, not since his funeral, where she’d sat alone, expecting but not seeing Jack. 

Sarah doesn’t make any more conversation other than to offer her condolences once more, and soon she’s fast asleep. Gwen shoots into action, firstly injecting a sedative into Sarah’s upper arm. Then she scours Sarah’s flat until she finds her UNIT credentials and her security pass, which she takes, then Sarah’s uniform, placing them both in a spot against her closet. Gwen slips back into Sarah’s bedroom and pulls her up. She presses Sarah’s finger to a mold and takes her fingerprint - just in case she needs it.

Now comes the part that she’s not too keen on, but she knows has to be done. She swiftly slits both of Sarah’s wrists, making sure to do it at an angle that looks self inflicted. Gwen places the razor in Sarah’s hand, then makes sure everything is in place, before putting on Sarah’s uniform and slipping out of her flat. She’s sure someone will find her on Monday - but not before that, because she knows that on Sundays, Sarah spends all her time in her flat. 

Walking swiftly out of her flat and through the streets of London, Gwen finally gets to UNIT and swipes in Sarah’s security pass, smirking as it accepts her without question. She notices the cameras, but she’ll take care of those later. 

She walks straight into General Banks’ office. He’s the one with the key to the lower archives. Unfortunately for her, he’s very well guarded and hard to get to - only people within UNIT headquarters have the ability to reach him. Which is unfortunately which Gwen had to use poor Sarah. 

Oh well.

“Hello,” she says when she enters. He’s still sitting there, even though it's half past three in the morning. “My name is Gwen Cooper. I’m the Director of Torchwood. I think you know me?”

His eyes widen and he stands up to call for help or pull an alarm or do something when Gwen cuts him off. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she says. 

“How’d you get in here?” he asks furiously. “I’m going to call security.”

“Calm down,” Gwen demands. “If you don’t want your big secret getting out, then you might want to be quiet and do as I say.”

“You have nothing on me,” he sneered. 

“Oh really?” Gwen says sarcastically. “Should we talk about the money you’re funneling out of the department towards your personal expenses? Or how about the artifacts that you’re sneaking out of the archives to sell on the black market?”

His face grows white as a sheet and he breathes in sharply. “Shh!” he whispers. “How did you-”

“-Calm down,” Gwen repeats herself. “If you do as I say, this information doesn’t need to leave this office. But if you don’t, I still have Martha Jones’ number. And she has a few… well placed contacts within UNIT, higher clearance than you. I wouldn’t want to let anything slip but - well - you know how conversation goes.”

She grins at him and he nods, looking scared.

“What do you need me to do?”

* * *

General Banks leads her down to the UNIT archives, which look so different from Torchwood’s, and brings her to the back, where the ruins of the Torchwood Archive lie. Ianto’s pride lies in those few shelves, and she has to bite back a sob at the sight. 

Then anger bubbles under her skin, itching to get out, and she’s ready to put her plan into action. 

The rift manipulator is heavy and cumbersome but she manages to carry that and whatever other artifacts she can see. Right before she leaves, she makes the General scramble the security footage so that she’s hidden. And she takes his private phone number. 

“When I call you, you’re going to hire the person I tell you to,” she orders. “Without question. And if you tell anyone, and I mean  _ anyone _ , you’ll be stuck in a UNIT prison for a lifetime. Watch yourself.”

With that, she leaves, lugging the heavy items back to her room. It takes her a few days to read through Tosh’s instructions - the manipulator is janky and broken and never really worked at the best of times. But it does have a lock on the last person who used it. 

Gwen works for two months, doing nothing but sitting in that tiny room, fiddling with the controls, messing with the internal mechanisms, spending loose change at various pay phones to call Rhys once every so often. When it’s finally perfected, she cries, the emotions getting too much for her to handle. She hasn’t felt anything but rage in so long that to feel this, this relief that something has worked  _ for once _ \- it’s a little too much for her to handle. This thing, this plan that she’s made so that she can finally be alright again, it’s actually working. 

She doesn’t waste time after that. Plugging in the coordinates, she programs it to call back the last manipulator it used. Holding the knockout spray aloft, she starts the manipulator and steps back. 

Seconds later, in a flash of golden light, John Hart appears. 

“Jack, what is it?” he calls out, and Gwen sprays the knockout spray in his face. He falls to the ground, and she uses her meager minutes before he wakes up to chain him to the radiator and remove his wriststrap, fitting it onto her arm. 

John wakes up with a gasp.

“Green Eyes,” he says, with a contemplative look. “Didn’t know you were here. Where’s Jack?”

“Fucked off,” she responds with a smile. 

“He tends to do that.” He shrugs. “Now, I’m not opposed to a bondage play, but I’d like to safeword out of this one and I’d like my vortex back please.”

Gwen smiles at him and he raises his eyebrows and smiles back. Then she pulls out her gun and shoots him in the leg. 

“What the fuck!” he yells. “What was that for!”

“You’re going to teach me how to use this thing,” she says, pointing to his manipulator. “Or I am going to watch you bleed out into the carpet and die.”

“What if I just die, what will you do then?” he demands. Gwen shrugs. 

“I always have other options,” she says flippantly. “Make a choice, Hart. And quickly. You’ve got about five to eight minutes before you can’t be helped anymore.”

“What the fuck do you want me to do?” he demands. 

“Well, firstly, you’re going to tell me how to use this thing. After that, we’ll do a few tasks. Then I can take you to a hospital or something. But not until then.”

“And if I bleed out before?” John demands, looking indignant. 

“Then you bleed out.”

John considers his options for a few moments. Then he finally grimaces and nods. “Come here,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

She walks towards him and holds out her hand, grasping her gun with the other. He pushes a few buttons on it, then waits for a moment, before shouting again. 

“What the fuck,” he yells. “Why didn’t it work?”

“What did you try,” she demands, holding out the gun. John holds his hands up, clearly disgruntled. 

“It was supposed to bring me and the vortex back to the last location we were at. I don’t know why it didn’t work.”

“Oh I do,” she smirked. “Those cuffs - Jack said they were from the fifty-first century. Used to ground rogue time travellers.”

John swears and pulls at his handcuffs futilely. She smirks, looking at him expectantly. 

“Three minutes,” says Gwen. “What’s your plan now?”

“I’m going to die on this stupid dirty rock, in the worst century!” he shouts. “Fuck!”

“You don’t have to die,” she says calmly. “Are you planning on helping or not?”

“Fine!” he yells. She holds out her arm to him and he presses a few buttons. Within seconds, she feels a little tingle inside her and she glares at him. 

“What the fuck are you doing,” she demands. 

“It’s scanning you - acclimating itself to your DNA,” he explains moodily. “Now can you  _ please  _ fix my damn bullet wound.”

While the vortex is apparently scanning her, she uses the tourniquet and cloth beside her to tend to John’s leg. She doesn’t know if she’s making it worse - she doesn’t quite remember all of Owen’s first aid training - but it doesn’t matter. Gwen doesn’t actually care if he loses a leg or two, as long as he isn’t dead. When she’s done, her new vortex manipulator chirps. 

“That means it's done,” says John, looking annoyed. “Take me to a damn hospital!”

“Not yet,” says Gwen. I’m still not done with all my tasks. How do I use this thing?”

“It’s got a psychic link,” explains John. “Think of a day, time, and place. It’ll pop up on the screen in your preferred language and you can press go. But you  _ can’t  _ mess with time that’s already been done! You can’t change your past, you’ll cause a paradox.”

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m not changing my past. I’m going to change my future.”

And with a final smile, she presses go on her new vortex manipulator and her vision is blinded with golden light as the room disappears around her. 

* * *

Jack wakes up with a start. 

He’s on the ground, the gravel beneath him a rough texture, digging into his skin, scratching his face. He’s got that deep sort of headache, the one where it aches from within, a gnawing sort of sensation. The one he gets after he drinks a lot. 

He’s been doing little else for the past three years. It’s a tour of the galaxy, where he stays for a few nights, clears out the nearest bar’s liquor shelf - he needs so much to properly get drunk now that he’s immortal - and leaves. Being drunk, along with those bliss patches he’d picked up from the future, were the only things keeping him going at the moment. They were the only things that kept the emptiness within, at bay. 

He wishes for many things, but the one he’s begun to wish for the most is some kind of induced coma, where he would be able to shut down, possibly forever. It would be the next best thing to dying. 

Standing up, he stumbles as his head spins. Realizing that he’s almost sober again, he quickly takes out a bliss patch and sticks it to the inside of his arm. Jack smiles as the drug begins to work its way through his system, sending the world back into the hazy dream that he likes. He staggers over to the closest bar, the one opposite where he was lying, and falls into a seat. The bartender, a man with blue skin, looks at him with concern.

“This is the fifth time you’ve been in here these two days,” he says. “I’m cutting you off.”

“I have money, give me whatever alcohol you have left,” Jack demands. He slaps his credit stick onto the table and glares at the bartender. Seeing that he’s defeated, he brings over a bottle of hypervodka and places it in front of Jack. 

“This is all we have left,” he says. “You drank everything else and we don’t get a new shipment in until next week.”

Jack grunts in response. It’s not enough to keep him in the blissed out state he needs to be in, but he can make do with the patches. It’s time he moves on to the next planet. Popping open the bottle, he takes a long gulp from it, relishing the burning of his throat. 

Just thinking about anything other than where to get his next fix from makes him want to die. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to not be alive like this. Even when it was the worst of times, being tortured, Jacqueline dying, Lucia leaving with Melissa - and doesn’t that name make him want to drink more - he still had something left. He still had the hope that the Doctor would come and fix him. 

The Doctor. What a fucking hypocrite. When has the Doctor even pretended to care for him? Jack hates the Doctor with every fiber of his soul. 

The only person he hates more is himself. 

Jack pulls the bottle closer and lifts it to his mouth, draining it completely, then plops it down angrily. “More!” he demands.

“That’s all we have left,” cries the bartender. Jack gives him a suspicious look. 

“You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?” he says, glaring into the bartender’s eyes, putting the fear of  _ someone _ into him. 

He’s a monster - he might as well use it to his advantage. 

“I can - I can go look in the back?” the bartender stutters, and runs off. Jack scowls; he doesn’t want to have to use another patch if there’s alcohol available.

He slumps forwards and lays his head between his arms on the table. Hot tears spring to his eyes, however much he tries to ignore them, and he chokes back a sob as he thinks of what he’d been doing a year prior. 

He’d been in Bute Park, carefreely chasing Weevils with Gwen and Ian-

Even thinking his name hurts. It hurts in a way that nothing, not the liquor, not the bliss patches, not even throwing himself off the nearest roof, could stop it from hurting. 

He is tired of hurting. But he deserves it. Jack is hollow now, empty. He’s worse than any kind of villain from the stories his mother told him, he’s infinitely worse. 

He wonders what his mother would think of him. Would she spit at him in disgust? Or would she not even be able to face him?

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he jerks up instantly. No one’s touched him, dared to touch any part of him, in so long. He turns and stares into the eyes of John Hart. 

“You look like shit,” John says dryly. “Been clearing out the bars, have you?” 

Jack groans and slumps back down. He doesn’t have the energy or patience to deal with John, and he’s certain that if John keeps talking, he is going to snap his neck. 

“Come on then,” says John, and tries to pull Jack up. “Can’t stay here all night, can you?” 

“Go away,” whispers Jack hoarsely. “I don’t want to see you.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” says John, and there’s an off note to his voice, like something is wrong. Unfortunately for John, Jack is in no mood to do anything about it, or even care, if he’s being perfectly honest. 

“Leave me alone.”

“Javic, please,” pleads John, and that gets Jack’s attention. John never begs, and he prefers not to call Jack by his old name, choosing the name Jack adopted for missions. 

Jack lifts his head up and allows John to manhandle him out of the bar and down the street to a local hotel. He leans on John as they walk to a room, apparently John’s, and sits silently as John sits him down and wipes the grime from his face. He watches silently as John putters around, trying to find a way to get the bliss patches off his skin, and wonders why he’s helping. He asks John that, the drink loosening his tongue, to which John gives him a sad smile. 

“Because I have to,” says John, and peels away the first of the bliss patches. As he does this, the world gets clearer and clearer, and the more bliss patches that come off his arm, the more he can see, until he’s basically sober again. 

That’s when he notices something strange. 

“John?” he asks. “Where’s your vortex?”

John never goes anywhere without it, he never takes it off. Standard Time Agent Protocol, and no agent, rogue or not, would dare break protocol. 

“Oh Jack,” says John. “I’m sorry.” 

Then the world goes black as he dies. 

At least death is reassuring for the first bit. He’s back in the dark, and it’s blissful and calming and he thinks he could stay here for eternity. Then something grabs onto him and  _ pulls, _ tears him away from this place, and it’s like fire and ice, like hot coals raking over his body and water freezing on him, and it  _ hurts, _ oh god it hurts so much, until finally he gasps back to life. 

Not in Ianto’s arms as he’d grown used to. Not at the bottom of a building, or staring at the barrel of a gun like he’s recently grown accustomed to. 

He’s in a room, a plain white room, strapped to an operating table. He’s tied down at the arms, legs and waist, clad in a white hospital gown. He tries to tear at the bonds and writhes as he’s unable to. He notices then, with a sort of panic, that his wrist strap is gone. 

What the  _ fuck  _ has John done now? 

Then the door opens and in walks the last person he’d expect to see. There, smiling serenely, is Gwen. He hitches a breath as he drinks in the sight of his best friend, the woman he’d left without a second thought. He’s regretted a lot in his life, including his last words to Gwen Cooper. 

At least, he had thought they would be his last words. 

“Gwen,” he gasps. “What’s going on? No, wait, however they’ve got you mixed up in this, I’ll get you out. I promise!” 

Gwen doesn’t respond. She walks up to him, checks his pulse, and fiddles with the machine to his right. 

“Just a second and we’ll be able to get started,” she says vaguely. That’s when Jack notices a familiar vortex on her wrist. 

“That’s John’s,” he says. “Where is he? Did he do something to you?”

Gwen turns to look at him calmly. “John’s somewhere in the twenty seventh century,” she says. “I didn’t want him too close to us, or anywhere near the ability to time travel, but I agreed to give him a few creature comforts. He was very grateful - I could have dropped him in the eighth century. They don’t have any toilets there.”

“What the  _ hell  _ is going on?”

Gwen still doesn’t speak, but she pulls out a small metal bracelet, a silver thing that shines with an unearthly glow under the flickering fluorescence. A glint of light bounces off it and hits Gwen’s face, and Jack is certain he’s seen something like it before, even if he doesn’t remember where. 

“Gwen,” he begs. “Whatever’s going on, we can fix it.”

“Yes, we can.”

That’s when she smiles. It’s a cold sort of smile, one that sends chills down his back. It’s like she’s empty, Jack thinks. Someone has scooped out everything that made Gwen Cooper whole and left nothing but the faintest traces of love, and compassion, and everything else that she used to radiate. Someone has taken her, warped her, and left her hollow and destroyed. 

_ That someone is you, _ he realizes. 

Gwen comes closer, and she reaches out to stroke Jack’s arm softly, the one that lies bare, naked without his vortex. Pulling the bracelet closer, she reaches to put it on him. 

It  _ hurts _ . 

"I'm sorry Jack," she says lovingly, as Jack yells, warping and twisting his body away from her. 

Her touch is as gentle as her voice, as she attaches that  _ thing _ \- whatever it is - to his wrist, clamping around his arm like a vice. It does more than hurt - it radiates fire and ice throughout his entire body and he screams in agony. 

Gwen shushes him, her hand cupping his face, cold and soothing, stoking slowly, her wide, expressive eyes filled with pain. "I know it hurts, Jack, I know, but it’s okay. It’ll be over soon, and then everything will be fixed. I'll fix it," she promises, and those big, expressive eyes go wrong, go dark for a split second, before she smiles radiantly, as if it never happened. "We'll get our family back, like they never left.” 

He sobs, hot tears running down his face as he writhes in agony, and she wipes them gently, the soft pads of her fingertips brushing away the tears that she’s causing. All the while, she croons nonsense to him, as if it’ll make it better. 

“Just a few minutes and you’ll see Ianto again,” she says, tone discordant with her words. “Wouldn’t that be nice. It’ll be like he’s never left. And then Tosh and Owen. I got them back, you know. I took their bodies before the Hub blew up - wasn’t that a challenge - and they’re ready to be brought back.”

He yells unhelpfully. Hasn’t Gwen realized that they can’t bring the dead back? Doesn’t she know that if any of them could, he’d have crawled down to the darkness and clawed his way up carrying his lost family?

“Now, it does hurt me to see you like this,” Gwen sighs. “I know, it’s painful. But you have so much life to give, Jack. Can’t you spare a little. For me? For Ianto and Tosh and Owen?”

The bracelet  _ burns, _ branding into his skin, digging its way into his life force and sapping him of it, pulling down into his very core and  _ tearing  _ at it. It’s so painful that Jack can see little black spots at the corners of his eyes, twinkling in and out of existence. 

The worst part isn’t the pain, though. He’s been tortured for longer, killed over and over again, had the worst sorts of pain gleefully given to him, and he’s still come out of it mostly fine. No, the worst part isn’t the pain. It’s Gwen. 

Good, fundamentally good Gwen Cooper who he had recruited, has been erased. In her place stands this new Gwen Cooper, who has somehow taken John’s vortex off him, who is now sapping Jack of his life, and who is messing with things beyond all of their control. The Gwen Cooper he knew is gone, and the new Gwen Cooper is so blind with anger and loss and  _ rage _ , so much rage, that she has stuck her hands into the mud and is sinking deeper, determined to bring all of them down with her. 

The bracelet burns and burns and burns until it stops, and he sags, falling limply onto the table, face soaked in sweat and tears, breathing heavily. He looks up at Gwen, her face shining with happiness, and gives her a look, one filled with everything he can’t really say. 

“Shh, you did so well.” Gwen glows with pride. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you out in a bit - just as soon as they come back. Ianto will be here when I get you, he’ll be waiting for you. You can see him again.”

He doesn’t speak, and Gwen continues regardless of his silence. “I can’t wait to see him again. He’ll be a little confused for a while, sure, but I’m sure you’ll happily help me with him. We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t know about all this unpleasantness. It won’t be good for him if he does,” she says. “After all, we don’t want anything else to happen to him, right?”

“Gwen-” he says hoarsely. 

“Don’t worry, I know how to keep him safe,” she cuts him off. “But you’ll have to help me. Wait, what am I saying? Of course you’ll help me. You want to make sure he’ll be fine, right? Who knows if he can be helped again if something happens to him.”

“Yes,” he says, gritting his teeth. That was a threat, a real threat against Ianto, and they both knew it. Gwen wanted them back, wanted them alive and with her, and judging by her actions, she would do anything to keep them that way. What if she hurt Ianto, then twisted it in his head to think she was doing it to help him? He wouldn't know. She had them all in the palm of her hand. 

She gives him a kiss on the forehead and removes the bracelet from his wrist. Then she walks out of the room and leaves Jack there, alone, strapped to the table, feeling utterly destroyed. 

Gwen has won, Gwen has all the cards, and Jack has to obey. She has him now. She has his biggest weakness wrapped around her finger because he’ll do anything to make sure his family, his -  _ Ianto  _ is unharmed. He’ll have to play along at big happy families, even as Gwen drags them into the dark with her. 

This is his fault. Jack took a good, kind, normal woman, and dragged her into Torchwood, thought he was showing her everything else that was out there and the brilliance of the universe, when in reality he had corrupted her. Warped her mind, twisted her into that  _ thing  _ that stands in front of him now. 

Gwen Cooper is gone and it is all his fault. 

He stays there - he has no choice after all - and counts the minutes in his head. That was the thing about being a Time Agent, even a former one - you needed to have a good sense of linear time, so wherever you were dropped off, you could figure out exactly how long you were there. He counts in minutes, then converts to blips, thesnds, and finally nimitams, the time units of Boeshane. 

He’s up to fifty minutes when Gwen comes back, a big smile on her twisted face. She’s got what she wanted then, he thinks. Ianto and Tosh and Owen must be back. She unlatches the straps that bind him to the table and helps him sit up. 

“He’s outside,” she whispers with a smile. “Are you ready to see him?”

He doesn’t want to want Ianto like this, he doesn’t want to want Ianto’s soul this way, he doesn’t want Gwen’s influence over Ianto, he doesn’t want Ianto to be brought back through the dark. It isn’t right for him to want this. 

But he  _ wants _ . 

He wants so badly to touch Ianto, to taste him, to feel Ianto’s body against his own. He wants to grab onto Ianto and never let him go. So he nods. 

“And, will you behave yourself?” Gwen asks. “You know how much I don’t want anything to happen to him, right?”

“Yes,” says Jack, and delves deeper into the dark, following the hollowed out path that his best friend has set off in. 

“Then wait right here,” says Gwen, as if Jack could do anything else. She walks out the door, leaving it open, then returns. And there he is. 

There is Ianto, wearing a similar hospital gown to Jack’s, leaning heavily on Gwen, and walking towards Jack. He’s got an oxygen cannula in his nose, which is connected to a tank that Gwen is wheeling in for him, and an IV in his arm. He’s gaunt and pale and sickly, but he’s  _ alive _ . 

Jack can barely stand it. 

They walk forwards until Ianto is right in front of him, close enough that Jack can reach out and touch, and touch he does. He extends out his hand and reaches out and _ touches, _ touches Ianto’s warm, alive face. 

“Ianto,” he sobs, and cups his face. “Oh god, you’re  _ alive _ .”

“Jack?” says Ianto, in a dazed sort of voice, like he’s not sure what’s happening. 

“What’s wrong with him?” demands Jack. “Why isn’t he-”

“-He’s still a bit confused,” says Gwen, teary eyed. “He’s got a sort of brain fog. But he’s back, I promise. And he’ll get better, in time. The 456, they’ve ruined his lungs, so we have to wait for them to heal before any strenuous activity. But he’s alive.”

“Yes,” says Ianto. “I’m here.”

“Yes you are,” says Jack reverently, and traces over Ianto’s cheekbone with his thumb. “Ianto Jones.”

Then he kisses Ianto gently, and it’s like coming home. 

* * *

Ianto is floating in the darkness. 

It's all around him, like a warm sea that envelops him. It’s not bad, it’s rather comforting if he thinks about it. He doesn’t quite know where he is, or who he is if he’s being honest, but there’s a sort of peace in not knowing. It’s peaceful to be able to just float here, aimlessly in the darkness, and have nothing going on. 

It’s all calm.

It’s all peaceful. 

It’s all-

-Then suddenly something is grabbing at him, tugging him, pulling him away from the comfort of the empty and towards something that feels bad, feels foreign, feels  _ wrong _ . It feels like horror and it feels like fire and ice and burning and freezing and it hurts, it's so painful that Ianto almost can’t bear it. Something is pulling him away from his floating, and that something is deeply dark and unsettling. 

It’s  _ wrong _ . 

Then, as quickly as it begins, the wrongness ends, and he’s somewhere else. Somewhere where there is sensation, his vision a hazy mess. There’s movement and sound and something bright -  _ light, _ his brain supplies for him.  _ That’s a lamp _ .

There are hands stroking his face and there is sound, language perhaps, but it’s far beyond his comprehension. Breath swells in his lungs and he begins to angrily eject it out of his mouth.  _ Coughing _ , he thinks. He’s coughing. 

There is a sharp pain in his lower abdomen, a sort of burning, and Ianto wants to cry out. Hands are pressing on it, something is being put on it. He can see a hazy person bring something white towards it and wrap it on top. There’s a quick pinch to it, and then the pain disappears. 

_ Anesthetics, _ his brain reminds him. 

A few details start to emerge as he steadily breathes in and out. His name is Ianto Jones. He is twenty-six years old. He works for something called Torchwood with his -  _ something _ \- Jack and his sister in everything but name, Gwen. He was last in a place called Thames House. After that- 

-He doesn’t know. He remembers going into Thames House, for some reason - he’s not quite sure - and then nothing. It’s like there was a series of chronological events that he’s simply forgotten. 

He does remember one thing, though. There are two people that he trusts more than anyone else in the world, perhaps even himself. Jack and Gwen. All he has to do is find one of them, and they’ll explain it to him. They’ll keep him safe. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos/Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](https://violetmessages.tumblr.com/).
> 
> You can reblog the tumblr post for this fic [here](https://violetmessages.tumblr.com/post/643841437266477056/dead-on-arrival-violetmessages-torchwood).


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